


Things More Important Than Sleep

by flightrules



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10055795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightrules/pseuds/flightrules
Summary: You're exhausted, and so is he. Both your missions went way longer than expected, and you really need to get some sleep. But you only have a few hours before you have to be in the air again, and it could be weeks before the next time you're alone together.Some things are more important than sleep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, Someone on the Internet put an idea into my head that wouldn't leave till I wrote it down. This one came out of a [post](http://goddess-of-tits-and-wine.tumblr.com/post/152199455841/need-a-cuddle-that-turns-into-sex-that-turns-into) about cuddling, sex, and naps. It seemed like a very worthwhile combination, and apparently Luke and my OC/reader insert, Commander Dara Hartnett, wanted in.

It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Disrupt a supply convoy headed for the Imperial cruiser _Inferno._ Capture the ships, steal the supplies for the Alliance. Failing that, destroy them. 

This time, though, the convoy isn’t where your spy said it would be. Moments before it's supposed to appear from hyperspace, Tarven sends a coded update over the subspace radio. You and your seven X-wing pilots hastily plot the jump to the new coordinates, only to find empty space again. 

You’ve known Tarven for years, since you were both long-haul freighter pilots oblivious to politics. You’ve trusted him with your life more times than you can count. So when he posts a third set of coordinates, hours later, you lead your squadron there. 

After twenty-six hours and two more jumps, there’s a new message on the subspace. It’s Tarven’s last words: an apology, followed by the sizzle of a blaster and an Imperial officer’s laugh. 

You’re cursing at the nav computers to hurry up, plot the course to your rendezvous point and get you all out of there when the TIEs show up, laser cannons already blasting.

 

By the time you arrive back at the _Resistance,_ you’re so tired you don’t even remember running the landing sequence. You’re just grateful you made it in one piece. You’d like to be able to take credit for everyone’s survival--you did train them, after all--but you know it was basically a miracle. 

“This was a clusterfuck,” you admit, when you all gather in the hangar bay. “But you did well. We'll talk it over later. For now go get some sleep.” 

You start making your way to your quarters the same way you landed your starfighter: by sheer muscle memory. The one good thing about this day, you think, is that you’re going to get to see Luke. You’re posted on the same ship but now that you’re both squadron commanders, you keep getting assigned different missions. You haven’t crossed paths in a month.

But now, finally, you’ve got leave at the same time. You’re a day late, thanks to the Empire, but you’ve got at least 24 hours left before you have to be in the air again. 

Rogue Squadron’s berthed in the next hangar bay over. They should all be tucked in since yesterday, everyone getting a break. But as you pass the entry door, you hear starfighters coming in to land.

You activate the door and step through to see what’s going on. 

Luke’s X-wing is just touching down. It's got no special markings, but you know it by the pattern of new and old panels on the sides. Luke has a knack for getting out of scrapes, but also for jumping into them when another pilot's in trouble. His ship's had a lot of repairs.

Six of the other seven starfighters are already in place, with one more coming in behind him. There’s new carbon scoring on wings and fuselages. Rogue Five is missing a starboard engine. There’s a jagged hole where it ought to be.

You go to greet Luke as he climbs down the ladder from the cockpit. 

“Just getting back?”

His face is pale and he’s got dark shadows under his eyes. He looks so bad that you turn and count ships again, to make sure everyone’s made it.

“They’re all here,” he reassures you. “Do I look that awful?”

You suspect, actually, that right now it’s a bit like looking in a mirror. “You look like you haven’t slept for a couple of days.”

“I haven’t,” he says. His hand goes to the side of your face, curving over your cheekbone. “You too?”

“Things didn't quite go as planned.” 

He slides his hand to the back of your neck, where you can feel tight muscles start to ease just from his touch. “Plans. Sometimes I wonder why we bother to make them. Give me a couple minutes, I'll walk you home.”

You wait while he rounds up his squadron and praises them for their hard work, then takes a moment for a ritual unique to Rogue Squadron. Eight seasoned pilots hold hands in a circle and bow their heads. You've been in that circle. You know how it feels to have Luke send around a burst of energy, of appreciation, of belonging. You also know what it takes out of him.

 

It takes you four tries to key in your door code because you keep getting the numbers wrong, even though you've had the same code all three months you've been stationed on the _Resistance._ Luke knows the sequence as well as you do but he just leans against the wall, eyes closed, and waits until you finally get it right.

Your room is small, like all the ship's sleeping quarters, but--perk of finally being an officer--it's private. When your bunk's folded against the wall there's even a small couch that's not too uncomfortable for seating. Inside, you fall onto that couch and Luke drops down to sit next to you. He leans against the armrest and you lean against him. He doesn't even lift an arm to hug you, but you don't mind. 

“I can't move,” you say.

“Me either.”

“I've been waiting to see you. But all I want to do is sleep.”

“We'll have time tomorrow.” His sentence ends on a yawn. “You can make it up to me.”

“Promise?” 

“As long as I get to make it up to you, too.”

That sounds like the right idea. You have a whole, blessed day off tomorrow, from first bell all the way until the ship's lights dim for artificial night.

The comm alert buzzes. 

Luke curses, slurring the word like he's too tired to even swear. 

This is your quarters, so it takes your voiceprint to answer the call. “Hartnett here.”

“Commander.” It's General Madine. “Sorry to interrupt your rest, but we have advance word of an Imperial attack on an Alliance-friendly colony. We're going to have to postpone your leave. We need Red Squadron in the air tomorrow morning.”

Your head's still resting against Luke's chest. You can feel his breathing, the movement like being rocked to sleep. There's nothing to say but, “Yes sir.”

“Skywalker?” the general adds, and you’re embarrassed and pleased that even the _General_ knows to look for him at your place. Luke sighs out, “Present, sir.”

“Rogue Squadron, too. Briefing at 8:30, ready to go at 9.”

“Confirmed,” you say together. Madine signs off.

Luke's hand comes up to rest against your head, fingers in your hair. “We can't go to sleep now.”

You're both already half-dead from exhaustion.The morning’s going to be sheer pain. “I'm not sure I'll survive waking up if I don't get to bed soon.” 

“I'm not sure I'll survive waiting another month,” he says.

He's right, it's been way too long. There's no telling when you'll be alone together again. Your groan is half resentment at the orders, half agreement with his need.

You definitely want to, it’s just that your body feels like a block of lead. “I think I'm going to need some help here.”

Luke shifts enough to get his hands on your hips, giving you a little boost to turn around and face him. You're not remotely graceful as you flop back onto his lap, landing with knees straddling his hips. Your head's above his now and he leans back to look up at you. You follow his movement but can't quite keep your balance, so what's meant to be a passionate kiss ends up a clumsy mashing of your lips against his. 

He laughs a little, and you can feel yourself smiling as you try again. You've been together long enough that you've figured out how to kiss him. But tonight it's like that first time, when you weren't sure how your movements went together yet. It's a mess of lips catching on teeth, tongues getting in each other's way, one of you starting a rhythm and the other failing to follow.

“Hold on,” he says, pulling away, and you drop your head down, settling into his lap and burying your face in his shoulder.

“Not working,” you agree, words muffled against his neck.

“It's working.” He finds your hand and moves it between your bodies and to the hard bulge between his legs. 

How are you awake enough to do that? It's only a thought but he hears it.

“I don't think it's completely up to me,” he says.

“Mmm,” you manage, not lifting your head. “We better make use of that while we can.”

“Can we?”

“I think you're going to have to do the work though.” You're still speaking into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. You bite gently on the muscle there, then mumble your words around it. “My head's stuck here.”

He wraps his arms tight around you and then stands up with a grunt, lifting you with him. He supports your weight until your feet slide awkwardly to the floor. Then, hands at your waist, he says, “You OK there for a minute?”

You're swaying, but you'll stay upright.

Luke flips the back of the sofa flat, then reaches up and releases the catch that drops your bed down from the wall. It rests atop the sofa, no superfluous space in this tiny room.

With his encouragement you climb onto the mattress, realizing as you land face down that you never even took your boots off. You can feel Luke lifting your foot, bending your leg at the knee, easing off one boot and then the other. He tugs off your socks and there's the press of his fingers on the sole of your foot, finding the places you didn't even realize were aching. A moment later his lips follow his fingers, planting a kiss on the bottom of your foot and then gently sucking on your toes. 

A moment after that, you can still feel the warmth of his mouth but the movement’s stopped. You get up on your elbows and crane your neck around to look. He's sound asleep, kneeling at the end of the bed, cheek against the mattress.

For a second you contemplate staying exactly where you are. But he's going to wake up with a stiff neck, and anyway there's something you both need to do before morning. 

So you shove yourself up to sitting, scoot to the end of the bed, and get your hands under his arms. “Come on, wake up.” His eyes squint back open as you tug him up into the narrow bed with you.

Now it's your turn to pull off his boots and socks, tossing them onto the floor with yours. Then you undo the fly on his trousers and, “Lift up,” get him to raise his hips enough that you can get them off, along with his underclothes. You contemplate his shirt, decide it's too much trouble to get him out of it, and settle for unbuttoning the front and snuggling up against his bare chest, your hips against his and legs twined together.

At first you think he's fallen asleep again, but then he's sliding his palms down your back and under your waistband. “You're still dressed,” he mumbles. “That's not right.”

Really, you just want to lie there, wrapped around him, and let sleep take you both. You can wake up early, have sleepy sex in your warm bed with the overheads still nighttime dim.But what if you don't, what if you sleep until it's time to meet your squadrons, what if it's another week or month or more before you're alone together again? What if you go out on this mission tomorrow, and one of you doesn't come back?

You untangle yourself and roll out of bed, standing up to drop your own trousers and shrug out of your shirt. Luke watches you through half-open eyes, then reaches out to pull you back tight against him. “That's better.”

You're aware that you've gone wet just from the feel of his bare skin against yours. But you're also aware that he's not hard anymore. You wriggle your hips against his. “Need to fix that.”

“Sorry.” It comes out as a sleepy sigh. “Body stopped cooperating.”

You know how to fix it. Taking a few seconds to gather your energy, you slide yourself down until your head is level with his cock. Normally you'd put more energy into this, but you know what he likes and you go straight to it, one hand gently tugging down the foreskin, tongue circling the ridge at the base of the tip. You hear his breathing hitch as he starts to harden in your hand.

And then you startle awake, realizing you fell asleep right there and have been drooling on his crotch.

You don't even waste the energy to apologize. He's probably out cold up there too by now. You just go back to what you were doing, figuring it'll wake him back up.

It does.

He goes, gradually, from a fragile-feeling softness to rock-hard, and then there's a moan from above you and fingers tugging gently at your hair. You follow his direction, crawling back up to lie against him, breasts pressing into his chest and one leg tucked over his thigh.

“You still want me to do the work?” he asks, hugging you tighter so there's no space between you.

“Please.” With your eyes closed, breathing into him, there's only one way you could be closer. 

His hand feels awkward reaching down to touch you, without his usual grace, as though he's barely got control of his muscles right now. He slides a finger through your wetness and then slips it gently inside, testing that you're really ready. 

“Please,” you say again, with a different, more urgent meaning this time.

He rocks back for a moment and then uses the same hand to guide himself into you and you find that you're wrapping your legs around his hips, completely by instinct, and he's rocking against you while you hold on and let him.

It's both the sweetest and most absurd lovemaking you've shared together yet. He manages to keep up a rhythm for a few minutes and then his movements slow and you can feel him going heavy against you. You pick the rhythm back up long enough to wake him, then hold on again as he takes back over. It goes on like that for a long time, both of you riding that sleepy closeness, hoping morning never comes.

 

You wake to your chrono alarm, which is always set for 7am unless you turn it off the night before. Luke's still sound asleep. He's lying on top of you but he doesn't feel heavy at all, it's just warm and cozy and it's lovely to realize his cock, gone soft again now, is still tucked inside you as though this is exactly where he belongs.

He stirs awake as you're using the voiceprint to tell the alarm to stop beeping. His cock slips out as he shifts his weight off you and you gasp from the sudden emptiness.

He realizes, and his hand slips between your legs to soothe you.

“I'm awake now,” you say hopefully and watch his lips curve and eyes crinkle with a smile.

“Me too,” he says.

“You going to want breakfast?”

“We should,” he says but then leans in to kiss you and doesn't stop for a long time.

“There are protein bars in the go-bags,” he adds a little later, looking up to check the time.

“Protein bars are good,” you agree, and pull his head back down to yours.

 

You're not late to the briefing, but it's close.


End file.
